Read Ebook {PDF EPUB} The Sin of Cynara by Violet Winspear The Sin of Cynara (7 page) 'I can stand it,' said Carol, feeling an unbearable fraud at the way she had taken in these people. She had had no lover, and when Teri was born she had sat in a waiting-room while her sister Cynara suffered the birth pangs. Her body felt on fire with guilt and she suddenly stood up and went to the big bed where Teri had fallen sound asleep. 'He's tired out, poor pet,' she murmured. 'We've been travelling for hours and it was rather hot on the bus.' 'My dear, you must be tired yourself.' Gena stubbed her cheroot and slipped her foot into her sandal. 'Have you everything you need? I guess you won't feel like coming down to dinner tonight?' 'Oh no.' Carol had never felt less like facing this family which she had so far succeeded in fooling, and all she wanted right now was to be safely alone with Teri. 'I'll make an early night of it, and please believe that I'm deeply grateful to all of you for making us welcome at Falconetti.' 'Thank Rudi, my dear. He's the padrone here and the one who makes the important decisions. It may have helped that you're rather a nice-looking creature, with exceptionally pretty hair—' 'What do you mean?' Carol looked at Gena with a sudden alarm in her eyes. 'Why has it helped that I -I've nice hair?' 'Rudi is a man, cara.' Gena looked amused by Carol's alarm. 'Very much so, unless you didn't notice and were concentrating only upon his scars? They're frightening, I know, but his eyes are still as keen as they always were and I'm willing to bet that he noticed your hair and your fair skin that takes a blush so attractively - oh, don't let it panic you. My brother knows the effect that his face has on women and he'd never risk being hurt by one of them — never again !' 'Again?' Carol could feel the sudden tension in the room, as if a coldness had crept in, and a sense of those dark passions that could exist between a man and woman. 'Was it—?' 'Yes.' Gena's face was suddenly as hard as if carved in marble. 'The slim and delicate hand of a woman did it — with vitriol. He was lucky not to lose his sight.' 'How absolutely awful!' Carol had gone so white that her eyes looked intensely violet 'But why? I — I thought perhaps there had been a fire and he'd been hurt in it.' 'One of those emotional fires, Carol, in which a man and a woman are sometimes caught. An inferno almost as terrible as the real thing.' 'But why - how could anyone do such a thing?' Carol shuddered as she thought of it, the burning acid, searing into his face, creating an agony which he would never be able to forget. It was far more terrible than being trapped in a fire, for that was a natural sort of hazard, but to have acid thrown at you - instinctively Carol threw her hands up against her own face in a self-protective attitude. Her imagination was vivid and she had a fearful mental picture of those fine Italian features being destroyed while a woman looked on, the empty vitriol bottle in her slim, cruel hand. What could have made her so bitter, so revengeful that she put her mark on a man with corrosive acid? 'You ask why.' Gena shrugged her shoulders. 'I have asked Rudi that question and he has never answered it, and when my brother puts up a shield of reserve then it's useless to try and penetrate it. All I can tell you is that the woman fled and my brother never had a warrant taken out against her. It was a love-hate quarrel, that's about all I know. He never talks about it.' 'How could anyone love and hate to that degree!" Carol asked. 'Deep people often do, my dear. Will the little boy want a milky drink before you put him to bed?' 'He likes Horlicks, if that would be all right? Otherwise just warm milk with a teaspoon of sugar.' 'They'll probably have Horlicks in the kitchen. I'll tell one of the maids to bring it up, with a glass of wine for you. I insist. It will help you to sleep, for I've always found that it's never easy to drop off in a strange bed in an unknown house, and this is a very large one - the bed as well, eh?' Carol glanced at the great bed and nodded. 'You're being very kind to us, signorina.' 'Please call me Gena. Molto bene, questa la vita.' 'Good night.' Such was life, indeed. When the door had closed behind Gena, the room seemed larger than ever and Carol gave way to a shudder of sheer nerves and stood there with her arms clasped around her own body. Had she known all this about the Falcones would she have come here like this, imposing on them - in a way? She gazed at the small, still figure of Teri, his redskin on the bed beside him, and she felt the familiar ache of love for him. There had never been any other soul as close to her as the boy was; she couldn't say that she and Cynara had been all that close even though they had been twins. There had been none of that soul communication that people spoke about in connection with sisters born in the same hour, and there had never been all that much alikeness in their ways. Cynara had shown a preference for the male sex at the very start of her teens, but for Carol that awareness had not awoken until the entry of Vincenzo into her life. He had kindled love in her heart, and then had crushed it out so completely that Carol couldn't imagine herself being starry-eyed over a man ever again. In fact she now felt frightened by the dark sides there were to the emotion called love. Her fingers crept to her own cheek, smooth and softly hollowed, and she recalled the feel of the baróne's scars when he had forced her hand to his face and made her touch him. A woman had done that to him . . . how then could he ever harbour gentle feelings towards any other woman? The searing pain of the acid would have penetrated to his heart and burned out of it all the kinder aspects of love and desire. He might even feel tempted to be cruel to anyone who tried to get close to him, for how could he ever trust again, ever truly believe that his face was lovable? He had said it, hadn't he? That he reserved his cruelty for women? At that moment Teri stirred awake and lay looking at her with his great dark eyes. 'What's the matter, Gaily?' He struggled into a sitting position and sleepily blinked his long lashes. 'You have ever such a funny look on your face.' 'It's my natural look, Buster.' She sat down on the bed and drew him close to her heart. 'Well, caro, it looks as if we're going to live in this island palace. Do you like the idea?' He nodded against her and clasped his arms about her neck. 'Is that tall man with the terrible face really my uncle, Gaily?' 'Yes, and you mustn't think of his face as being terrible. He was in an — accident and he can't help his scars. He's being very kind to us by letting us stay here and you must always be a good boy to him and never, never mention his face. Do you understand?' 'I'm not afraid of him, Cally,' Teri insisted. 'He's nice on one side, isn't he? I'll look at that side and then I won't get shivery in my tummy.' She smiled and kissed his ruffled hair. 'That's my Buster! Now how about having a wash before I put you to bed?' 'Can I sleep in here with you, Cally?' His arms clung closer and she felt him glance over to the archway that led into that other large room with the bed that was a lot too big for one small boy. A smaller bed would have to be found for him, and some brighter furnishings, otherwise he would never be persuaded to sleep on his own. The baróne, she suspected, had some firm ideas about the upbringing of boys and he'd hardly be pleased if she made a baby of his nephew. 'For tonight, caro,' she said. 'Tomorrow we'll make your own room look much nicer and then you won't mind sleeping there like a big boy, now will you?' 'No,' he said hesitantly. 'It's a very big house, isn't it? You should see the stables all full up with horses. Flavia showed me the big black horse that her papa rides, and he tossed his head ever so high and had steam coming out of his nose.' Um, she thought, he sounds like his master ! 'Come along, honey bunch,' she lifted Teri off the bed, 'let's go and clean your face and hands.' The bathroom was also large, with a deep green-tiled bath tub that fascinated the boy because it was let into the floor and had steps leading down into it, like a mini swimming-pool. Back home at the Copper Jug the bathroom had been a converted back room with a narrow white tub and cold white walls. But here on the walls were mosaics of sea scenes, and Teri re-discovered King Neptune and his court of mermaids and he stood there entranced while Carol ran water into the marble pedestal wash-basin. 'I've never ever seen a bathroom like this one, Cally. It's 'normous and just like a sea cave.' Carol had never seen one like it herself. 'It's bella' she agreed, and thought to herself that Rudolph Falcone lived here in his island palace like one of the nobles of the Medici times, shut off from the rest of the world where there were too many eyes to stare at his face. She caught sight of her own face in a large, bold-framed mirror on the wall, and she felt anew that clutch of alarm at what Gena had said about her appearance having softened the hard heart of her brother. She saw her own vulnerable look, the sea-green lighting of the bathroom making her hair and skin seem unreal in their fairness. She had let down her hair for the man, but not to seduce him; not to make him imagine that she was free with her kisses. 'Do you like it here, Cally?' Teri stood there, wriggling a bit when she applied the face flannel. 'It's a beautiful house, Buster, but like you I feel a bit strange in it. I expect in a few days we'll be more used to the atmosphere.' 'Then we're never going home to the Jug?' he asked, and he suddenly gave her the quick, mischievous smile of a small clown. 'I'm glad Auntie Rachel isn't here with us, for she was always scolding me, and she said I ought to be put in a home. What's a home, Cally, and why should I be put in one? Is it like the dogs' home where they take all the strays?' 'You're as full of questions as a pumpkin is of pips !' Carol smiled as she wiped his face, but inwardly she was fuming. Aunt Rachel had been furious when she had brought Teri home as a tiny baby, for the Aunts had hoped that Cynara, who during the last six months of her pregnancy had lived in rooms in London, would sign away the baby so he was taken for adoption and the dreaded breath of scandal then receded from their door. But in her fashion Cynara had loved Vincenzo and she had begged Carol to live with her in London and between them they would bring up Vincenzo's child. That had been the agreement, and then on the day of Cynara's discharge from the hospital she had vanished, leaving Carol to cope alone with the dark-haired infant who then, and for always, had stormed her heart with his huge eyes and his helplessness. Carol had found it impossible to part with Teri, and had thought it would be better for both of them if she arranged with her aunts to go on living with them, helping out in the tearoom, in an environment she was accustomed to. Being all alone in London with a small baby had seemed too much of a challenge at the time, but now she had the feeling that she would have coped. At least it would have saved her from the persistent nagging of the Aunts, who lived in constant dread that Cynara would reappear and claim the child, and therefore reveal to their clientele that they had a niece who had sinned. Oh yes, in many ways were the Aunts a pair of Victorians, and Carol could only wonder at herself for enduring the tensions that were never at rest behind the shell-ruched curtains of the Copper Jug. She had dared to make her escape from all that, but it couldn't be denied that she had fled from petty tyrants only to find herself in the lair of a veritable dragon who carried the scars of his own brush with love and hate. When she and Teri returned to her bedroom they found that a maid had brought a steaming cup of Horlicks with some chocolate finger biscuits, and a fluted glass of wine for Carol. The various standard lamps set about the big room cast pools of soft light on the floor, islanded with rugs, and on the panels where big-framed paintings hung. Teri hopped up the half-moon of steps and dived into the bed, and there he sat sipping his drink, while Carol unbound her hair and began to brush it. 'It's better than a dog's home,' Teri announced. 'D'you reckon he'll let me ride one of the ponies, Cally?' 'If you ask him very politely,' she said, 'and remember to call him Uncle Rudolph.' Teri gazed at her big-eyed over the rim of his beaker. 'It's a very long name and that lady with the laughy eyes called him Rudi.' 'That, my Buster, is because she is the baróne's sister and entitled to - to an affectionate name for him, just as I have my name for you. To you, caro, he is Uncle Rudolph and don't you forget it. He's an important man, remember, and we must show a proper respect for his hospitality.' 'Will we see much of him, Cally?' Teri nibbled a chocolate finger and his own straight dark brows made that single line across his small but decidedly Italian nose as he watched the lamplight shimmering on Carol's hair. 'He touched you !' 'It was nothing.' But even as she spoke Carol could feel the wave of warmth sweeping over her, and that clutch of panic in the pit of her stomach. The baróne was absolute master here, and in his eyes she was the woman who had lived with Vincenzo and borne a love child. She had to accept the bitter with the sweet, and there was a certain sweetness in having this apartment to share with Teri, with its great carved door that secured for them the kind of privacy very much denied at the Copper Jug. The amber-shaded lamps gave a light that was softly golden, and though large the apartment was warmed by radiators, for as in most southern countries the nights were cool after the sun died away. She tucked Teri into her bed and bent to kiss his forehead. 'Sleep well, caro, and have good dreams.' 'Goo-night, Cally.' Already his lashes were falling sleepily to cover the big dark eyes. 'It's ever such a soft bed.' 'Yes, isn't it?' She sat there on the bedside watching as he fell asleep, and she assured herself that she didn't care what attitude the baróne took towards her. This was where Teri belonged and it had been worthwhile coming here for his sake. The Sin of Cynara (11 page) 'You requested that I didn't call you his woman, but others will do so. Though you live under my roof, there will he whispers about your son. Are you strong enough to take those, but not brave enough to marry me?' Strong enough? Her hands trembled, and she was so tired of being tough all the time, afraid to give in to weakness and tears. For five years she had stood alone and fought for Teri, but now - now a man offered to share that burden and it would have been terribly tempting to just give in and not fight any more. 'Strangers don't marry, signore,' she said. 'I made that mistake once before, and I daren't make it again, least of all with Vincenzo's very own brother.' 'Do you imagine I am like him? Women were a relaxation for me, not an obsession. It was another woman, I suppose, who took Vincenzo away from you?' 'Yes.' She saw Cynara again, so defiant, with smeared lips, and a rip in her violet-coloured bridesmaid's dress. 'You wouldn't be entirely the type of woman for my brother.' Those eyes that might never soften again for any woman made a relentless search of Carol's face. 'I never knew him to go in for the sensitive type with a mind of her own, but at eighteen you would have been as tender and untouched as a new rose, and I imagine he found that irresistible - for a while. Then he reverted to the more obvious sort, am I correct?' 'Uncannily correct,' she said, and it gave her a curious jolt that this man should speak of her as an untouched rose . how did he regard her now, as a fallen flower? 'What I have proposed must be decided one way or the other,' he said. 'Come, you aren't a starry-eyed girl any more, looking from your virgin casement for a knight on horseback. You and I have in common our disillusion with the delights of love, and we can regard marriage as a mere business arrangement. I can give your son the name that he should have, so that it can never be disputed, and you can give me the heir that I wouldn't have in the normal course of events. You see, madam, I don't expect a woman to love my face. I look at it in a mirror each morning when I shave and I would be a fool to expect anything but pity and a certain horror from any young woman. That I would never deliberately seek, and you can rest assured that I would be but a husband in name alone.' Carol sat there as still as a statue, but she could actually feel the excitement running in her veins. Teri could be this man's heir, with a title and a palazzo, and people looking up to him. The sin of Cynara could be wiped out as if it had never been, and the child she loved could hold his own with anyone . just about anyone. Abruptly the baróne leaned down to her and looked closely into her eyes. 'Yes, now the idea spreads wings and you feel yourself being carried away by what I suggest. Never again need you worry about your son's future . or your own, come to that. You are tempted, are you not?' Yes,' she admitted. 'But all the same it's a coldblooded arrangement, and even if I don't have to be your real wife, how can I be sure that I won't be your hated wife?' 'Why should I hate you?' There was the faintest hint of whimsicality in his yoice. 'I shall probably take you for granted, for I have my own life to live, my own concerns that keep me well occupied.' 'I -I know how you became as you are,' she said, and she looked at him though it would have been infinitely easier to glance away, at the falcons that couldn't fly, a* that monk-like figure whose eyes couldn't play tricks with her nerves. 'Do you really, madam?' His voice was velvet wrapped around a shaft of steel, and his glance flicked like the sharp point of the rapier. 'Is that why you're afraid of marrying me?' 'Being hurt in that way can't make you exactly fond of - of women.' 'Of blonde women?' he taunted her, and quite deliberately he touched a tendril of soft gold hair at the side of her neck. She felt the very tip of his finger and tiny nerves seemed to chase each other across the very pit of her stomach. 'How can I tell that you don't want some kind of -revenge?' she said. 'It wouldn't be unnatural, and once I became your wife — well, you're the baróne, and no one questions your authority, do they?' 'Meaning that if I beat you there would be no one to tell me that I shouldn't ?' 'Something like that.' 'What an odd creature you are !' He flung back his head and gave a hard sort of laugh. 'You'd be more likely to scream if I made love to you.' When he said that Carol very nearly did scream; married to him she would have little defence against anything that he wished to do. He was a hard, lean, powerful man, and forever branded by the cruelty of a woman. There would be no tenderness in the love-making of Rudolph Falcone, and she was not the experienced woman that she made out to be. 'You know you can't fight me,' he said, 'so why bother to try? You know you would do almost anything for the boy—' And there he broke off as the door of the tower room was abruptly thrust open, framing the figure of Bedelia Falcone, clad in dark silk that glistened like her eyes and her drawn-back hair. In the lobes of her ears were black pearls gleaming against the magnolia pallor of her skin. 'I thought I would find the pair of you together.' Her pale, long-fingered hands curled against the silk of her dress. 'I guessed that she wouldn't waste much time before she started her wiles on yet another Falcone, and this time the rich, important one. I said that was why she came here, and I am proved right. You bring no one here, Rudolph, so she followed you—' 'Mrs. Adams did nothing of the sort,' he said, curtly. 'I brought her with me to the falconiere, and I had my reason for doing so.' 'Your reason?' Bedelia flung back her head and gave him an arrogant look. 'Of course, you realize that she is no better than a woman of the streets and you feel she should repay you for being here.' 'How dare you !' Carol went white with temper and sprang to her feet. 'I'm not taking your insults—' 'You will be quiet, the pair of you,' the baróne rapped out. "There will be no cat fights under my roof, do you hear? Women ! Life would so much more composed if they had never been invented.' 'Why is she here?' Bedelia demanded. 'Here in your private room from which others of the household are excluded.' 'Mrs. Adams and I had something of a serious nature to discuss.' 'Money?' his sister-in-law flung at him. 'Is she demanding a settlement of some sort, so she can dress her little mistake in better clothes than the ones he is wearing at present? Cheap people, cheaply dressed! How could Vincenzo get mixed up with her sort when he was used to the best?' 'Hold your tongue.' The baróne looked so suddenly angry that his scars stood out like pale frozen seams. 'You are speaking of the woman who is going to be my wife!' Bedelia looked at him as if he had gone mad, then all at once her hands were claws and she was flying straight at Carol, her sharp fingernails aimed at her eyes. Carol gave a cry and then felt herself falling as the baróne thrust her to one side and caught hold of Bedelia with incredible speed and strength. He gave her a shake that must have rattled her teeth. 'What is the matter with you?' he demanded. 'Are you deranged?' 'You can't marry her, you can't,' Bedelia panted. 'You can have the child without having her - she is nothing, and you are the baróne. Give her money and she will go away, Rudolph. That is all she came for, to ' be paid for having the son that should have been mine.' 'You don't know what you are saying,' he said grimly. 'Grow up, Bedelia, and find yourself another husband. Forget Vincenzo, once and for all. Accept that he is gone for good. Che sarà sarà.' 'I was his wife -I loved him. What is she? Just one of his women who fell for his child and who now comes to Falconetti to get all she can out of you. You can't marry her! People will know that she isn't doing it because she wants you ! It's your possessions that she wants !' 'I am fully aware that no woman could want me for myself,' he said, and Carol saw a nerve flickering against his temple, distinct among his fearful scars. 'But as a man of property I must have a legal heir, and young Terence will suit me. He has the Falcone look, and he's healthy and intelligent beyond his years.' Carol listened as if in a kind of dream from which she couldn't wake up. This was her future they were talking about, as if it were already settled that she was going to make the vows that would bind her to this man. She wanted to cry out that it wasn't settled, but her lips moved dumbly, as they do in dreams, and she knew in her heart that Rudolph Falcone would have his way. He looked at her, still gripping Bedelia by the arms, and there in his eyes lay not demand but the distant expression of a man who had chosen to protect his inmost feelings with a layer of ice that marriage to her would leave as frozen as it was right now. 'We shall be married,' he said. 'Soon.' 'Yes,' she heard herself reply, and there was a long moment of silence broken by the rustle of silk as Bedelia broke free of the baróne's hands. 'You will regret what you are doing,' she flung at him, and the gems in her ears held a black fire, reflected by her eyes. 'Have you not already learned your lesson at the hands of a blonde woman !' With this taunt Bedelia glanced around the falconiere until her gaze fell upon the monk-like portrait, and she flung out a hand towards it. 'You would do better to live like that, brother-in-law,' she said. 'Take to the cowl and the habit, for this cheap and pretty piece who belonged to Vincenzo isn't going to kiss you with her eyes open.' Bedelia smiled at him, and then turned away with a catlike grace and walked from the room, and never in her life had Carol felt such a spasm of hatred for anyone. But at the same time she felt a deep stab of curiosity . was it possible that Bedelia spoke like that out of sheer wilful envy? Had she transferred love of her dead husband to his living brother . The baróne of Falconetti who had all the strength and authority which Vincenzo had lacked? When she looked at the baróne he was gazing from one of the peaked windows down upon the lake, and turned to her was the unflawed side of his face . the face which Bedelia had known in all its Latin perfection. Carol's heart gave a thump, for she knew that even as she gained the baróne for a husband, she gained a deadly enemy in his sister-in-law. 'Bedelia is highly strung,' he said, 'and she doesn't always take heed of what she says. She would have been more stable had there been a child of her union with Vincenzo - it is natural that she is jealous of your son.' 'It might be natural,' said Carol, 'but she makes me rather afraid. I hope she wouldn't harm Teri—' 'Harm him?' He swung round and looked hard at Carol. 'I hardly think so, for she knows she would have me to deal with. As I said, we shall be married as soon as possible, but there are certain formalities to arrange and papers to be drawn up. I realize that it is all very unromantic, but the advantages should outweigh the lack of - enchantment, shall I say?' 'Don't bother to say it, signore.' She briefly, and a little bitterly, broke into a smile. 'I am quite disenchanted with romance, and it is true that I would do just about everything for Teri. He comes first with me, and I'm grateful that you wish to make him your official heir - but please believe that I didn't come here deliberately seeking that, as Bedelia implied. I'm not a gold-digger, and neither am I a cheap woman who would give myself to any man. You said, signore, that our marriage would be a mere formality, but if it were that alone then I would feel that I was cheating you. If I marry you, I will be your wife, if you want me to be so.' Carol hadn't weighed her words, or even thought that she would say them, but directly she did so she felt a sense of relief. She didn't want to take all that this man was prepared to give to Teri without some sort of repayment, and he was a lonely man . a man who. believed that he was no longer desirable; a kind of ogre to shut himself away in his falconiere so that other people might not have to hide the shock in their eyes when they looked at his face. 'You are generous, madam.' He stood there very tall and straight, with an old-world hauteur about him, as of another time, when men clad themselves in doublet and hose and carried a rapier at the hip. And then he said, rather cruelly: 'But I'm not asking for your self-sacrifice, you know. It's your son that I want, to carry on my name and my line, and it is necessary that in order to acquire him in every sense of the word I marry his mother. You have no need to grit your teeth and come to bed with me, Mrs. Adams. I am not so desperate for the company of a woman that I would subject you to the embraces of a man you neither like nor want. You will be my wife in everything but the intimacy of the bedroom, for I don't require your pity, madam.' When he said that Carol felt as if the floor rocked beneath her feet. She hated him for the way he spoke, and the way he looked at her with eyes like steel with an edge of flame to them. He was armoured in pride, and when he smiled it was remote as a moon glimmer. He gave her a slight mocking bow. 'I salute your courage, madam. It must have taken plenty to offer yourself to a man whose looks must make you shrink inside yourself. You are young and attractive. My handsome brother was your lover. You have no need to consider yourself under any kind of obligation to me.' 'I - I didn't want you to think that I would take without being prepared to give,' she said, in a shaken voice. She could barely meet his gaze - he mortified her, her fidanzato. 'It's because of my brother that you have the responsibility of a son to rear, so it's for me to do something about it. I shall be of use to you, and in return you assist me in making secure the future of this ìsola and its people. We are almost feudal on this island, madam. The people like it that they have a baróne to give them employment, and to whom they can bring their problems. Terence will be reared in this tradition, you realize that?' The Sin of Cynara. Five-year-old Teij was not Carol's child hut her sister Cynar's-although Carol's husband Vincenzo had been his father-hut she had always looked on him as her own child. She was determined to do the best she could for him-and if, now, it meant going to Italy and begging the help of Vineenzo's family. then it must be done. But Carol had visualised a kindly grandfather-not Ten's uncle, the formidable Barone Rudolph Falcone. whose scarred facematched his unrelenting attitude to her, And she had not bargained for this man's solution to her problem. Violet Winspear. Violet Winspear (b. 28 April 1928 in London, England – d. January 1989) was a British writer of 70 romance novels in Mills & Boon from 1961 to 1987. In 1973, she became a launch author for the new Mills & Boon-Harlequin Presents line of category romance novels. Presents line books were more sexually explicit than the previous line, Romance, under which Winspear had been published. She was chosen to be a launch author because she, along with Anne Mather and Anne Hampson were the most popular and prolific British authors of Mills and Boon. [ 1 ] In 1970 Winspear commented that she wrote her leading males as if they were 'capable of rape'. This comment caused uproar and lead to her receiving hate mail.[1] Contents. Biography. Violet Winspear was born on 28 April 1928 in London, England. She worked in a factory since 1942, when in 1961 she sold her first romance novels to Mills & Boon. In 1963, she became a full-time writer. [ 2 ] She wrote from her home in the south-east England, that she never left, but she meticulously researched her far-flung settings at the local library. She never married, and had no children. She inspired her nephew Jonathan Winspear to write. She said: "The real aim of romance is to provide escape and entertainment", but when in 1970 she commented: "I get my heroes so that they're lean and hard muscled and mocking and sardonic and tough and tigerish and single, of course. Oh and they've got to be rich and then I make it that they're only cynical and smooth on the surface. But underneath they're well, you know, sort of lost and lonely. In need of love but, when roused, capable of breathtaking passion and potency. Most of my heroes, well all of them really, are like that. They frighten but fascinate. They must be the sort of men who are capable of rape: men it's dangerous to be alone in the room with." The comment, that they were 'capable of rape' caused uproar and lead to her receiving hate mail. Violet Winspear died at January 1989 after a long battle with cancer. Book Notes. Violet Winspear's novels take the readers around the world. Even though many of her storylines are uninspiring, she excels at boldly using the written words to vividly bring to life the surroundings of her plots. For example, The Palace of the Peacocks (1969). Many established Harlequin novelists such as Robyn Donald and Kay Thorpe, employ sexual antagonism in developing conflict in their stories. These devices are popular with modern readers. For instance, Robyn Donald creates leaping sexual awareness between men and women. Since men are quick to acknowledge this vital force, Robyn casts them into the role of hunter and as women label it as a weakness to despise and overcome, she makes them the prey. This is the adversarial set up that drives her plots forward. Employing the same motif of sexual antagonism, critics say that Winspear, contrasts her hero and heroine in such extremes that the heroine lacks awareness of her own sexuality against the hero who is fully aware of his. This lends her stories an acute imbalance in character development where the heroine is left bemused with an alpha male hero who exerts overwhelming control over every situation. For example, The Time of the Temptress (1978). Modern day critics will say that Winspear reinforces a non-entity driven personality of the heroine against a larger than life hero. It is not that the heroine lacks intelligence or initiative. But by today's standards she lacks self esteem in her role as a woman. Whereas Winspear makes it clear as to the sex appeal of the hero, it is not always graphically described why the heroine would be attractive to the male. As a consequence, although the heroine is duly attracted to the hero, it can remain unconvincing to those used to having such attractions graphically spelled out as to why the hero is likewise attracted to the heroine. For example, The Awakening of Alice (1978). To modern readers, reading any of the older Harlequin romances can be painful in their depictions of women. What Winspear could do was beautifully was capture a time, a place, and a British view of the world. Her descriptions of the internal dialogue of her heroines was innovative at a time when most heroines were two dimensional. One must consider the social mores of the mid 20th century. Although these books were written after the sexual revolution, it was still a "bad" woman and not a "good" girl who would choose to have sex. Therefore, having the choice taken away from the heroine by plot devices like being captured, or being forced to marry yet secretly in love with a hero took that choice away. The heroine relieved herself of moral responsibility in the eyes of the reader. The Time of the Temptress (1978) conveys its jungle surrounding very realistically, especially with an episode where an unsuspecting Eve is besieged by crabs. Caught amidst an African civil war, Eve and Wade are forced to make their escape out of the jungle on foot. Despite Wade's ceaseless taunts and jeers, in a case of Stockholm syndrome, where Eve finds herself totally dependent on Wade for her rescue, she falls in love with him. Even an unimaginative melodrama such as the Valdez Marriage (1977) retains its vivid portrayal of place and atmosphere. In Valdez Marriage , a young girl is lured to the side of a school friend by his overbearing brother. She is blamed for the accident which crippled her friend, even though the latter's uninvited groping caused the car accident. Add to this a dour housekeeper, sexy distant relative and an ancient mansion. The Palace of the Peacock (1969) is a Violet Winspear classic. In this story Winspear showcases a Java island and its people with extreme delicacy contributing to both realism and a sense of escapist reading one and the same time for her post-World War II English readers. In The Palace of the Peacock (1969) Temple Lane reveals a streak for adventure when she travels to a far away island in the Java Seas in search of her fiance Nick. A disillusioned Temple takes the initiative to pose as a boy to obtain the last cabin bunk available in the outgoing steamer. She then accepts a temporary job offer by Dutchman Ryk van Helden, a local plantation manager. A criticism of this story must be that although Temple is excited by Ryk, the question goes unanswered as to why should Ryk find Temple desirable. It happens that in the island of Bayanura, Temple is the only white women for miles. And so, despite Temple Lane's spunky attempts at adventure, critics point to another of Winspear's unoriginal heroines. A plain Jane Alice in Awakening of Alice (1978) steps out of her comfort zone as she travels to a Greek island to tidy up a mess created by her glamorous sister. The awakening of love in this story is more convincing since it also gives a reason for the hero's attraction for Alice who resembles his past fiance. However, the imbalance in the equity between the two main characters is apparent when Alice is held against her wishes by the Greek hero, with whom she falls in love. Another classic Court of the Veils (1968) also stands out for this reason because the hero spells out his attraction for the heroine for being a 'deep girl' compared to her foil who preferred much dancing and friovolous gaiety. Joanna in Rain Tree Valley (1971) reads an advertising for home help. She answers the add, and gets the job. Adam, the alpha male hero is abrasive, but Joanna falls for him anyway. The heroine of Black Douglas (1971), forever complaining about the deficiencies in her looks, is accepted by the hero who is blind. The local color to add 'eh' after each sentence is unavoidable when reading Violet Winspear. However, unlike Flora Kidd's rendering of Scottish inspired dialogues, Winspear's attempt takes away from the general flow of conversation rather than adding substance to it. Violet Winspear writes in a style that is not sufficiently modern for present day readers. However, the use of archaic turn of phrasing and dialogues create a by-gone era mood in step with her subject material. Bibliography. Single Novels. Lucifer's Angel (1961) Wife Without Kisses (1961) Strange Waif (1962) House of Strangers (1963) Beloved Tyrant (1964) Love's Prisoner (1964) Cap Flamingo (1964) Bride's Dilemma (1965) Desert Doctor (1965) Tower of the Captive (1966) Viking Stranger (1966) Tender Is the Tyrant (1967) Beloved Castaway (1968) Court of the Veils (1968) Blue Jasmine (1969) Palace of the Peacocks (1969) Unwilling Bride (1969) Dangerous Delight (1969) Pilgrim's Castle (1969) Chateau of St. Avrell (1970) Cazalet Bride (1970) Castle of the Seven Lilacs (1971) Bride of Lucifer (1971) Dear Puritan (1971) Black Douglas (1971) Raintree Valley (1971) Little Nobody (1972) Silver Slave (1972) Rapture of the Desert (1972) Devil in a Silver Room (1973) Kisses and the Wine (1973) Forbidden Rapture (1973) Glass Castle (1973) Noble Savage (1974) Palace of the Pomegranate (1974) Girl at Goldenhawk (1974) Dearest Demon (1975) Devil's Darling (1975) Satan Took a Bride (1975) Darling Infidel (1976) Sin of Cynara (1976) Burning Sands (1976) The Sun Tower (1976) Love Battle (1977) Passionate Sinner (1977) Time of the Temptress (1977) Love in a Stranger's Arms (1977) Loved and the Feared (1977) Valdez Marriage (1978) Awakening of Alice (1978) Desire Has No Mercy (1979) Sheik's Captive (1979) A Girl Possessed (1980) Love's Agony (1981) Man She Married (1982) By Love Bewitched (1984) Brides Lace (1984) Secret Fire (1984) House of Storms (1985) Sun Lord's Woman (1985) Syn of Cynara (1986) The Honeymoon (1986) A Silken Barbarity (1987) Primavera em Veneza (1982) Stephanos Saga. The Honey Is Bitter (1967) Dragon Bay (1969) The Pagan Island (1972) Romanos Saga. Tawny Sands (1970) No Man of Her Own (1981) Mavrakis Saga. The Child of Judas (1976) Love is the honey (1980) Anthologies. The Fifth Anthology of 3 Harlequin Romances by Violet Winspear (1981) The Sixth Anthology of 3 Harlequin Romances by Violet Winspear (1983) Graphic Novels. Blue Jasmine (Art by Masae Hashimoto ) Passionate Sinner (Art by Yoko Hanabusa) Lucifer's Angel (Art by Yoko Hanabusa) Desert Doctor (Art by Naomi Hibiki) Dragon Bay (Art by Rin Ogata) Love is the Honey (Art by Amii Hayasaka) The Child of Judas (Art by Misao Hoshiai) The Burning Sands (Art by Misao Hoshiai) Time of the Tempress (Art by Misao Hoshiai) Pilgrim's Castle (Art by Misuzu Sasaki) Sun Loard's Woman (Art by Rinko Nagami) A Silken Barbarity (Art by Kaishi Sakuya) Musicals. In 1983, Takarazuka Snow Troupe staged Blue Jasmine . Director / Playwright: Ken Ako Composer / Arranger: Takio Terada, Kenji Yoshizaki Kasim ben Hussayn: Rei Asami Lorna Morel: Kurara Haruka Rodney: Michi Taira. The Sin Of Cynara Paperback – 1 August 1982. Carol was stunned by his proposal. For five years she had stood alone and fought for Teri, but now - now a man offered to share that burden. It was a terrible temptation just to give in and not fight anymore. "how can I be sure you don't want some kind of revenge?" Carol said. "It wouldn't be unnatural, and once I am your wife. well, you're the barone, and no one ever questions your authority." He was a hard man, lean and powerful and lonely. A man armored in pride. She could feel excitement running in her veins. I read this a long time ago, but never forgot it. It is a good book and believable. I would definitely recommend it.